


sayangnya, sayang

by nfwmb (earthshaker)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Breathplay, Emotional Constipation, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Face-Sitting, Friends With Benefits, Minor Jeon Wonwoo/Wen Jun Hui | Jun, Minor Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi/Lee Seokmin | DK, Rule 63, but it's mild i swear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-05 02:38:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16359089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earthshaker/pseuds/nfwmb
Summary: This — Seokmin in Minghao’s sweatshirt, hair up and glasses on, playing Beyonce’sHaloand singing along to it — this ishers. That knowledge fills Minghao up, soothes the part of her that is greedy to keep Seokmin away from the world.





	sayangnya, sayang

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote for [the louvre](https://youtu.be/ZQkdwymDanE), the one song off melodrama that has me feeling a way i can't place. to me, the louvre is many things, the intensity of summer love, the speed at which you _can_ fall in love, the aftermath of that love. i truly hope this fic encapsulates that, because honestly, i had fun writing this. the title, sayangnya, sayang, is phrase that originates from malay, which can loosely be translated to what a pity, my love. i get pretty busy with school after this, but hope to have the entire fic done by thanksgiving, as most of it has already been written, and just needs to be edited. this is unbeta'd, so do forgive me for any mistakes. all my thank yous are at the end~

If wine tastes like lips, I wonder

if you are red 

blooded fear

or white hot

curiousity

 _\- V,_ M.T.S

 

 

 

 

Even if your office is air-conditioned, no one is free from the oppressive heat of Seoul in June. Minghao’s one of those people, brain working in time with the slow whirring of the air conditioner in her studio. In front of her is a wall covered in pictures of the many pieces from her and Mingyu’s upcoming spring and summer collection. By most measures, they’re ahead of schedule, except for the fact that Seoul Fashion Week is four months away and Minghao’s hit some kind of block, unable to piece together cohesive looks that she’d like to showcase. 

 

Minghao can feel the beginnings of frustration manifest in a headache, but boring holes into the pictures isn’t going to magically have the photos rearrange themselves into a lookbook. Her phone ringing is a welcome distraction; there weren't many people who had her number, lesser still who preferred calling over texting. That narrowed the list down to about eight people at most, and it was _probably_  going to be Mingyu.

 

"Hey Minghao," Seokmin's voice is a pleasant surprise. 

 

"Hey, nation's sweetheart, no schedules for today?" Minghao responds.

 

"I hate being reminded of that," Seokmin whines, Minghao's lips quirking in a grin.

 

She doesn't have to see Seokmin to know that she's pouting, a testament to just how long they've been friends.

 

"I called to ask if you wanna have lunch together. I'm not that far from your studio and I know you probably didn't have lunch, so you can't say no."

 

Minghao glances over at her worktable, where there's a half eaten bowl of kale chips and then at the wall in front of her. She had nothing to lose from saying no to Seokmin, and the last time she’d seen Seokmin had been almost a month ago; Seokmin busy with her move to  Bridʒ after she’d decided she would be leaving Pledis. 

 

"Okay," she concedes, Seokmin cheering on the other end of the line. "Where am I supposed to meet you?"

 

"The cafe down the street from your studio sound good? Not the weird fusion one, the pasta one. I'll be there in 10."

 

"Sounds great. I'll see you there."

 

Seokmin hums a bye that Minghao echoes.

 

By the time Minghao actually tidies up the shoes that clutter the studio floor and makes the short walk to the cafe, Seokmin’s already there, flipping through the menu. Minghao’s not sure why she does it, knows that she’ll end up settling on her usual order of baked macaroni. When Seokmin spots Minghao, she grins at her, big and bright, standing up and pulling Minghao into a hug the moment she’s close enough. 

 

“Hao Hao,” she breathes out, smiling so brightly Minghao feels like she has a personal sun shining on her.

 

“It’s been too long,” Minghao murmurs back, pulling away and sitting down.

 

“Definitely,” Seokmin chirps back. “I’ve missed your pretty face.”

 

“You don’t see me for a month and suddenly you’re the one complimenting me? This should happen more often.” 

 

Seokmin blushes, ears a bright red, mumbling out excuses, Minghao laughs at that, going through the wine menu.

 

“Do you want a glass?” She asks Seokmin.

 

“Yeah, sure, as long as it isn’t red.”

 

Minghao makes a face -- most of the time she wouldn’t be caught dead drinking anything that _isn’t_ red but whenever Seokmin’s involved, she ends up breaking that.

 

“Rose sound good?” 

 

Seokmin hums in acquiescence and Minghao calls a server, placing their orders. A month is like a lifetime in the idol industry, and Seokmin brings her up to date with all the gossip that’s been flying around, sounding more like a Dispatch reporter than an actual Dispatch reporter. 

 

"So,” Seokmin begins, digging into her dessert. “I have a business proposal for you."

 

Minghao takes a sip of her latte, sets it down and raises an eyebrow. "You know I've got too much on my plate, with fashion week and NCT."

 

Seokmin's smile falters a little and it feels like there's a fist wrapped around Minghao's heart, squeezing tight. There's a reason Seokmin's earned the title of nation's sweetheart. Powerful vocals, near effortless beauty, a radiant personality. No one likes being the reason her smile falters, Minghao hates being the cause of it even more.

 

"What is it?" Minghao caves.

 

"Well," Seokmin says, a bit more subdued. "I want to revamp my style, now that I'm not under Pledis anymore. Not like, going from me to whatever is on the opposite spectrum of me but going to a more... mature me."

 

"But why me?" Minghao's surprised. Seokmin knows tons of stylists, has worked with some of the best.

 

"You know me Hao, better than anyone else Jihoon or I can think of," Seokmin shrugs. "I trust you."

 

There's the stone fist again, squeezing around Minghao’s heart. In her head, she’s running through the math — Seokmin isn’t actively promoting, Mingyu and her trade places a lot working with NCT, she has assistants now. It’s not like she _can’t_  find a way around it. 

 

Minghao sighs. "I'll do it."

 

Seokmin cheers and Minghao holds up a finger. "On one condition. The first thing we do is get rid of all your ugly sneakers."

 

Seokmin pouts and Minghao laughs, taking another forkful of cake. "I'm partially kidding. We can keep some of them. You just have to balance dressing like a teenage boy with dressing like an idol who has won several daesangs."

 

"I guess you're right."

 

"I know I am."

 

There's more conversation, Seokmin discussing the possibility of a November comeback with her new label, gossiping about her manager's love life, complaining about their jobs. Everything’s fine until Seokmin lets out a huge sigh. Minghao glances up, sees how her expression settles into something more tight, more muted. 

 

"What's wrong?" Minghao frowns. 

 

"Fans are here."

 

Minghao turns around to look and there is indeed a small group of fans gathering outside the cafe. They’re unmistakable, chattering and gesturing towards the cafe; Minghao’s pretty sure one of them is holding onto a copy of Seokmin’s album. It's a jarring reminder that Seokmin will always belong to the public before she can define herself by other relationships.

 

"Do you want Jihoon to pick you up from the studio?"

 

Seokmin smiles, a tight strained thing. It sets Minghao on edge, makes her wish there was something she could do something more to help. Wrap herself around Seokmin and hide her from the outside world in the few moments Seokmin has for herself. 

 

"It's okay. It's better to deal with them than avoid them."

 

They call for the bill and Minghao hates how Seokmin's erected a wall between them, suddenly focused on the fans milling about outside. She doesn’t even hug Minghao when she leaves, simply promising she’ll call Minghao. She’s not quite sure why she’s disappointed, why she suddenly feels like there’s a heavier weight sitting on her shoulders. 

 

Instead of going back into the studio, Minghao heads home. The same 300 pictures that cover her wall at work also cover a wall at home, and she always puts looks together better when she's at home. No amount of crystals and rearranging furniture could make her office feel like home and considering M&M was literally started out of Minghao’s apartment, perhaps it means something to go home and work on her collection there. 

 

When she does get home, however, she ignores the collection, pulling out her laptop and goes through every picture of Seokmin the Internet can offer her, scrolls through Twitter archives, Weibo-based fansites, magazine scans of Seokmin’s various photo shoots. If Seokmin’s given her this responsibility, she doesn’t plan on messing it up. 

 

☽

 

Minghao’s not sure why she’s nervous standing outside Seokmin’s door, pressing on the buzzer. She’s seen Seokmin for lunch several times since Seokmin first brought up that she needed Minghao’s help with her styling but it's also the third time Minghao's visiting Seokmin's new apartment since she moved in. That, and the fact that as much as Minghao's confident in her abilities and sense, Seokmin's an idol under high public scrutiny. She doesn't want to be the one to do something that would jeopardize that.

 

She rings the buzzer again when Seokmin still doesn't answer the door, frowning at her last text to Seokmin. She'd said okay when Minghao texted her two hours ago to let her know she'd be coming over, and security let her in so Seokmin was clearly in her apartment. Nothing prepares Minghao for Seokmin answering the door in her workout wear, a sports bra, and tiny compression shorts. Minghao trips over her feet crossing the threshold and Seokmin giggles.

 

"Were you day drinking, Hao?" Seokmin jokes.

 

Minghao rolls her eyes, kicking her heels off. "They're new heels."

 

"They look like they're could kill someone." Seokmin nods approvingly.

 

It's hard to take her eyes off Seokmin, glowing from her workout and the sun streaming in through her floor to ceiling windows. Her workout music is still playing too, a song by Britney Spears.

 

"Your neighbors don't complain about the noise?" Minghao asks.

 

"The walls are soundproofed," Seokmin explains, resuming her cooldown stretches on the exercise mat. "Help yourself to anything from the kitchen, I'll be done in 5."

 

Minghao nods stiffly. She boils water while Seokmin cools down, unearthing Seokmin's massive stash of tea in one of her cupboards. Minghao goes for orange blossom.

 

"Do you want tea?" Minghao calls out.

 

"Whatever you're having."

 

Minghao makes two mugs, sets them down on the counter that separates the kitchen from the living room, watching Seokmin go through her stretches.

 

Seokmin's hot. Undeniably so.

 

Minghao has always known this, but it was a distant thought. It wasn't something that she particularly paid attention to, came up whenever Seokmin snuck out to join Mingyu and her at the club or during award show season when she wore dresses that highlighted her figure. There were also the two instances where Seokmin had done a girl crush concept, sporting bodycon dresses and thigh harnesses. None of that holds a candle to this.

 

She averts her eyes, sipping her tea too fast and burning her tongue, hissing. Seokmin stands up and giggles.

 

"Bad day?"

 

"Your apartment has fucked up energy," Minghao defends.

 

Seokmin hums, pointing over her shoulder to the living. "I don't know, I have the rocks you gave me for the housewarming party."

 

True enough, the crystals are spread out across her coffee table. Labradorite, rose quartz, carnelian, tourmalinated quartz and tiger's eye, a bunch of them Minghao had picked up for Seokmin specifically.

 

"I try to remember to charge them," Seokmin says, taking a sip of her tea. "But I figured leaving them in the sunlight works, right?"

 

Minghao hums in assent, drinking more of her tea.

 

"Let's get started?" she suggests.

 

Seokmin nods, leading the way to her bedroom, Minghao close behind. Minghao tries to keep her eyes off Seokmin but fails. Seokmin has back dimples. _Back dimples_. Minghao didn't know this, and honestly, doesn't _want_  to know this. She racks her brain to remember if she's ever seen Seokmin in anything that exposes that  but comes up empty. Minghao just prepares herself for a long few hours of trying to avoid staring at Seokmin and getting caught.

 

Minghao feels like a walk in closet is wasted on Seokmin -- Minghao remembered being in awe the first time she'd seen it, simply because Seokmin had so much space for her clothes. Between the sponsored clothing she was getting and her own clothes, Minghao figured Seokmin had needed it but entering her walk-in, it feels like only half the space has been used.

 

Already, Minghao spots an entire section that's just dedicated to striped clothing. There's also a small section overtaken entirely by floral patterned clothing, and another one of all the ill-fitting suit jackets Seokmin likes wearing so much. There's nothing _wrong_  with them per say, but two weeks of Minghao obsessively going through shots of Seokmin at the airport and her Instagram during every free minute for that past two minutes have brought up how bad Seokmin is at matching what she has.

 

"You have that face," Seokmin says, grinning.

 

"What face?"

 

"The one you make when you want to say something but you're holding yourself back so your eyes bug out. Makes you look kinda froggy, like that time Kermit plushies were as much of an accessory to you as your watch is now."

 

Minghao rolls eyes. "I do not have a face."

 

"You do," Seokmin insists. "Anyway, you're not here to be my friend. You're here to be my stylist. Be honest."

 

Minghao sighs heavily and nods, shuffling to stand in front of Seokmin's striped clothing, rifling through it. Some things stay, the most notable ones being a pinstriped suit that _isn't_  oversized, a few blouses, some shirts, a skirt. She ends up finding a lot of duplicate shirts, Seokmin laughing nervously when she brings it up.

 

"I thought I didn't have those!" She protests, snatching the incriminating pieces of evidence from Minghao's hands.

 

Minghao chuckles and goes back to digging through Seokmin's stuff. It's when she digs through the suit jackets does she find Seokmin's old school uniform, the bright yellow blazer together with the skirt and sweater.

 

"Why do you have this?" Minghao asks.

 

"Oh let me see if it still fits." Seokmin snatches the uniform from Minghao's hands, throwing them over her workout clothes.

 

The skirt is way too short, and the cardigan that goes with it just a little bit snug. Minghao's throat is dry for reasons she can't explain though, watching the skirt swish around Seokmin's thighs as she twirls. Seokmin's just hot, Minghao theorizes, and the reason she's been immune to it for years is that Seokmin struggles with dressing herself, has been cocooned by an ill-fitting image, one perpetuated by just as ill-fitting clothes. Leaving Pledis was the first step to Seokmin stepping out of that image. 

 

"Are you gonna keep it?" Minghao asks.

 

"I'm sentimental." Seokmin reasons. Minghao gives in to that.

 

At the end of three hours, there’s a sizable pile of clothes on the floor of Seokmin’s closet. Most of it is stuff that’s too big, oversized that borders on sloppy. Minghao’s soft spot for Seokmin is the reason the pile isn’t bigger — if that wasn’t a factor, Seokmin’s entire closet would be on the floor. That, and the fact that Minghao doesn’t think it’s fair to push her that far out of her comfort zone so soon after leaving Pledis. Sure, Seokmin wants to curate an image, but she can do it gradually. Minghao doesn’t want to push her into it, not the way Pledis has.

 

“The biggest problem is how your closet is organized,” Minghao says. At some point, she’d changed out of her clothes into Seokmin’s because it was getting uncomfortable moving around in her dungarees. 

 

“What can we do about that?” Seokmin asks, completely serious.

 

“It’s too late to do it tonight Seok, it’s 8 and I have an early call time for NCT tomorrow.”

 

Seokmin pouts and Minghao smiles, reaching over to poke her cheek.

 

“Have dinner with me at least?” Seokmin pleads, lower lip jutting out. “We can order chicken and I’ll jump in the shower and we can eat then you can go home.”

 

It’s a tempting offer and Minghao caves, ordering chicken from their favorite place. Minghao loads up Netflix on Seokmin’s TV to pass time but her thoughts begin drifting off to Seokmin in the shower instead, for some reason fixated on Seokmin’s back dimples. Minghao pinches herself. She’s been friends with Seokmin for years and she’s never been this distracted by her before. It’s probably the effect of being too busy to look for a relationship or anything, really. 

 

There are other things though. There’s the way Seokmin laughs bright and easy when Minghao makes a deadpan comment, the way Seokmin snuggles up to her side on the sofa as they feast on chicken, the way Seokmin occasionally pouts at Minghao to be fed and Minghao gives in. They’ve done these things before but it feels different. Charged with the realization that Seokmin’s, well, pretty close to Minghao’s ideal type, really, and not just another girl who is a friend.

 

An hour becomes two and when Minghao eventually leaves, it’s closer to midnight. She can’t complain about it even if she has a 4 a.m. call time for NCT Dream’s latest comeback. If it was a live performance she’d send one of her assistants but it’s the photobook shoot, and she can’t miss that. Some things you have to supervise in person and any kind of shoot is one of them. 

 

“We still have a lot of stuff to do.” Minghao slips her shoes on, Seokmin watching her.

 

“My house is always open for you, Hao.” Seokmin says. When Minghao meets her eyes, she can see that the sentiment is completely sincere.

 

“I’ll see you soon,” Minghao mumbles. Seokmin nods, lurching forward to hug her. 

 

There is only one thought on her mind during the drive home: Seokmin fits against Minghao like she was meant to be there. This is the first time Minghao has noticed it. 

 

☽

 

Minghao frowns and pulls up her calendar app when the studio buzzer rings. She has no client appointments scheduled today and Mingyu was supervising an NCT schedule. She doesn’t remember making any orders either, so there shouldn’t be anyone at the door. She goes to answer it anyway, unsurprised to find Seokmin carrying food, decked out in a face mask and shades that swallow her face. Minghao sticks her head out and looks up and down the street, satisfied when she doesn’t spot anyone who looks like they’d linger around the building for a glance at Seokmin.

 

“What brings you here?” Minghao asks, watching fondly as Seokmin unpacks food onto the table in their makeshift pantry. 

 

“I texted you! Also, I know you haven’t eaten yet. So I got Tender Greens!” 

 

“You got—”

 

“The buttermilk chicken with spinach salad and seasonal veggies, yeah, I know what you like Hao.” 

 

Minghao pinches the bridge of her nose, shaking her head. Most people wouldn’t dare do this —spring up on Minghao at the _studio_  of all places, uninvited but Seokmin… Seokmin is a force of nature. Seokmin’s way too good at blowing past Minghao’s defenses and maybe Minghao lets her. Likes it even. 

 

“What do you want your style to convey?” Minghao asks when they’ve finished their meal.

 

Seokmin sighs, so heavily Minghao wouldn’t be surprised if she knocked things down with it.

 

“I want to be me,” Seokmin says. 

 

“And what that being you mean?”

 

Seokmin shrugs. “I just wanna stop wearing what the stylists throw at me, to play around and develop something for myself.” 

 

More quietly, she adds. “I don’t wanna look like an overgrown teenager anymore.” 

 

“We can do that.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Definitely,” Minghao says, reaching over to prod Seokmin’s side. “Make you look like Sunmi, or Luna. Heize too. What do you think of EXID’s styling?”

 

Seokmin pinks, ducking her head. “Yeah, I’d like to look like Heize.”

 

Minghao’s thought drift to Seokmin in knee length boots and short skirts. Yeah. _Yeah_ , Minghao was going to model a little bit of Seokmin’s closet after Heize. 

 

Mingyu enters at that moment, both Minghao and Seokmin glancing at him. 

 

“Hao, Seokmin,” Mingyu grins, looking pleased and confused at once. 

 

Minghao rolls her eyes — Seokmin has broken up with Mingyu more than two years ago, but Mingyu still managed to make a fool of himself around her every time. 

 

“Mingyu, hi.” Seokmin greets. 

 

Minghao hates how she stiffens up, doesn’t completely slip into the persona of Dokyeom but does tap into it. Seokmin’s sitting up straighter, and her smile is a fraction of what it is when it’s just Minghao she’s with. 

 

“Do you want to come over to the house and talk about stuff instead?” Minghao asks. 

 

Mingyu looks at her with a grin that borders on shit-eating, a twinkle in his eyes Minghao is resolutely trying not to acknowledge the meaning of. 

 

“Sure.” Seokmin sounds both surprised and pleased, soothes Minghao how she relaxes. 

 

“We can go now if you’d like.” Minghao offers. 

 

Mingyu’s grin becomes even more salacious. 

 

“I’ll see you around, Gyu.” Seokmin hops off her stool, waves at him. 

 

“Sure,” he turns to Minghao. 

 

“I will kill you if you say anything.” Minghao picks her bag off the counter, shoving her laptop into it. 

 

Mingyu laughs and nods. “Sure you will, Hao.”

 

“Don’t push it.” She warns. 

 

Seokmin looks at the both of them with an eyebrow raised, Minghao shaking her head as they walk out of the studio and to her car. The drive home is uneventful; they’d left early enough to avoid rush hour traffic. 

 

Not much gets done once they get to Minghao’s. Seokmin points out pieces from the collection that she likes and Minghao takes note of it, still trying to figure out what Seokmin’s personal taste is. They do it for an hour, Minghao putting together an online mood board of colors and designs Seokmin likes. There’s a lot of bright colors, more skirts, and dresses than Minghao was expecting considering Seokmin’s inclination towards pants most of the time. It’s also fun to watch how hesitant Seokmin gets with sexier outfits, deliberating on them. 

 

They tire out eventually, ordering fried chicken, Minghao opening a bottle of wine. 

 

“Can you get drunk?” She asks. 

 

Seokmin hums. “I mean you’re not going to post it to Instagram, right?”

 

Minghao shakes her head and Seokmin grins. 

 

“Let’s get wasted then. I might have to stay over though.” 

 

“We’ve shared a bed many times,” Minghao points out. 

 

Seokmin simply tugs the bottle out of Minghao’s hand, pouring herself a glass. 

 

“Less talking, more drinking,” Seokmin says primly. 

 

Minghao snorts, pouring herself a glass as well. 

 

“I’ll toast to that.” 

 

The funny thing about Minghao and Seokmin is that they don’t have the best tolerance, which is why it’s unsurprising when Seokmin’s head is resting on Minghao’s shoulder one and a half bottles of wine later, Seokmin absentmindedly playing with Minghao’s rings. There’s a movie playing in the background — _Begin Again_ , because the only thing Seokmin and Minghao watch together are movies where Mark Ruffalo goes through a phase of introspection. All while looking like, in Seokmin’s words, a DILF. Minghao supposes it’s the bisexual in Seokmin, but there are times where she looks at Mark Ruffalo and thinks maybe, just _maybe_. 

 

“Minghao?” Seokmin asks, voice slurred. 

 

Minghao turns to look at her, Seokmin’s face is illuminated by the light from the television, the angles of it sharp even in the blue light. Her breath catches in her throat —Seokmin’s looking at her with an expression she can’t decipher, contemplative, almost. 

 

Retrospectively she’s not sure why she did it. Maybe it was something about the look in Seokmin’s eyes, like she was so far away, in a place where things between them were different. Maybe it was Minghao’s own drunkenness. Minghao leans forward, closing the distance between them, kissing Seokmin, nothing more than a clumsy peck against her lips.

 

It barely lasts more than a few seconds but the softness of Seokmin’s lips, the way Seokmin sighs against her lips, that’s branded into her memory, branded into her _soul_ , something she’ll carry for the rest of time. 

 

Seokmin is pouring when Minghao pulls away, leaning forward to kiss Minghao again. And again. And again, until she’s halfway straddling Minghao, hands tight in Minghao’s hair. 

 

“Seokmin,” Minghao mumbles, rubbing circles on Seokmin’s lower back. “We’re both drunk.”

 

Seokmin sighs unhappily, presses her forehead against Minghao. When she looks at Minghao it’s like she’s seeing the depths of her soul and for a moment, Minghao feels horribly exposed. 

 

“Would you do this if we weren’t drunk?” Seokmin’s voice is hushed. 

 

Minghao squeezes her eyes shut, tries to focus on calming down. 

 

“We’ll see in the morning.” 

 

Seokmin nods, climbing off Minghao and stumbling towards the bathroom. Minghao closes her eyes. She’s not sure what she’s doing. She just knows she doesn’t want to stop. 

 

☽

 

When she wakes up in the morning, Seokmin’s wrapped around Minghao like an extension of Minghao. It would be cute if Minghao’s head didn’t hurt from the wine, the sun coming in through her still open blinds contributing to her headache. Seokmin stirs awake the moment Minghao begins the process of extricating herself from Seokmin’s arms, mumbling and squeezing closer.    
  
“Seok,” Minghao protests, hand wrapped loosely around her wrist.    
  
Minghao wouldn’t mind this under different circumstances, but as it is, she feels guilty that she kissed Seokmin, brought Seokmin to her bed despite the fact that they didn’t even _do_  anything together.    
  
Seokmin blinks one eye open then both, yawning in Minghao’s face. Normally Minghao would complain. Being hit with morning breath after someone was drinking wine all night is grounds to complain. This is Seokmin, though. And whatever rules Minghao has for the rest of the world rarely if ever apply to Seokmin. When Seokmin finally regains some sense of her motor abilities she smiles at Minghao, dimmer than her usual megawatt smile, but not any less gentle, any less brilliant. Before Minghao can register what she’s doing Seokmin leans forward, pressing her lips to Minghao in a chaste kiss.    
  
“Good morning,” she says, voice hoarse. Minghao would be lying if she said Seokmin’s voice didn’t have some kind of effect on her. 

 

“Why did you kiss me?” Minghao blurts out. 

 

Seokmin’s brows immediately crease together in a frown and Minghao has to resist from reaching out and smoothing it out. 

 

“We kissed last night..” Seokmin trails off. “I figured it didn’t mean much, we’re both lonely and too busy for relationships. It just makes sense to get our affection from each other, right?” 

 

Minghao’s quiet.

 

“It’s not a relationship or anything,” Seokmin rushes to fill up the silence. “It can just be casual. I can be casual with you.” 

 

Something in Minghao breaks a little. Minghao’s not good at casual, always throwing herself into things with burning intensity, relationships withstanding. But if this is the only way she can have _something_  with Seokmin, she’ll take it. Minghao doesn’t trust herself to speak so she leans forward, kissing Seokmin again. 

 

It’s less chaste this time. It’s wet and filthy, Seokmin groaning into Minghao’s mouth, Minghao sucking on her lower lip. Minghao sighs into every kiss, tries to file away all the ways Seokmin responds to her touch. 

 

“Is this okay?” Minghao asks, Seokmin nodding when she voices it. 

 

“Seok, I need to hear you say it.”

 

“Yeah Hao, please,” Seokmin breathes out. “I want this.” 

 

Minghao groans, kissing down the length of Seokmin’s neck till she reaches the wide collar of Seokmin’s sleep shirt. Minghao leans back to push the shirt out of the way, pressing kisses along every inch of skin that’s revealed, peeling the shirt off before leaning in to kiss Seokmin again. Seokmin’s fingers fumble with the hem of Minghao’s own shirt, Minghao pulling away to pull it off and throw it aside. 

 

She ducks down, scrapes her teeth over Seokmin’s collarbone, Seokmin arching into the sensation and fisting her hands in Minghao’s hair. 

 

“No marks,” she stutters, Minghao nodding as she presses more kisses on Seokmin’s body. 

 

The sound Seokmin makes when Minghao swirls her tongue around one nipple, fingers rolling the other between them, sounds like it’s been punched out of Seokmin. Minghao switches back and forth between Seokmin’s breasts until Seokmin is whining, rolling her hips up in an attempt to get some friction. Minghao presses butterfly kisses down the line of her stomach until her lips are brushing the waistband of Seokmin’s panties. 

 

Seokmin’s undeniably sexy. Like this though, spread out on Minghao’s white sheets, Seokmin’s a different kind of sexy. The morning sun makes her look like she’s painted gold; the kind of sexy that deserves it’s own exhibition, deserves thousands paying reverence to it. 

 

The best part? This is only for Minghao’s eyes. 

 

“Please do something,” Seokmin whines out, fingers tangling in Minghao’s hair, hips tilted up like an offering.    
  
Who is Minghao to say no to Seokmin, giving herself up like this? Like this, Seokmin is a goddess, Minghao a blind disciple, worshipping her the only way she knows how to.  Like this, Minghao pressing kisses against the inside of her thigh, Seokmin whimpering everytime lips meet skin, Minghao feels drunk with blessings.

 

The first swipe of Minghao’s tongue against Seokmin’s damp panties has Seokmin gasping Minghao’s name out. She wants to hear Seokmin’s voice break on the syllables of her name so she does it again, and again, the taste of Seokmin in her mouth both sharp and addictive, the front of her panties entirely soaked through from Minghao’s saliva and Seokmin’s own slick, _ruined_. 

 

“Minghao,” Seokmin huffs out. “If you don’t do anything right now I will walk out.”

 

Minghao laughs and Seokmin whines, the vibrations setting her off. She finally decides to take mercy on Seokmin, moving back so she can peel Seokmin’s panties out of the way, pushing Seokmin’s legs over her shoulders. Minghao turns her head to kiss Seokmin’s thigh, biting it and sucking on the bite when Seokmin moans. 

 

“Please?” Seokmin asks. Minghao looks up to find her eyes trained intently on her, shiny with unshed tears. Seokmin’s so fucking sensitive, so fucking _wet_  just because Minghao’s been kissing her and touching her. “Minghao, please?”

 

Minghao’s own arousal flares up and she ducks down, using her grip on Seokmin’s thighs to keep them parted, dragging her tongue between the lips of her pussy. Seokmin jerks up, Minghao’s name falling from her mouth, pitch-perfect as ever. Minghao tightens her grip on Seokmin’s thighs, marveling at the way they flex in her hands. 

 

Seokmin’s hands fist in her hair when Minghao’s tongue teases her clit, the pain adding to Minghao’s own arousal. Minghao uses the tip of her tongue to draw tight circles around Seokmin’s clit, grinning when Seokmin’s voice breaks. 

 

When she finally pushes one finger into Seokmin, walls hot and slick around it, Seokmin’s thighs squeeze around her head. It’s only her first time fucking Seokmin and already she knows this is how she wants to go, choked out by Lee Seokmin’s thighs. 

 

Seokmin bucks up when Minghao begins moving her finger, keening when Minghao wraps her lips around Seokmin’s clit and sucks, arching up into Minghao’s mouth. This side of Seokmin is new, unheard of, and Minghao’s dying to figure out what it is that will make Seokmin scream. 

 

When she slides the second finger into Seokmin, Seokmin gasps, biting down on her fingers to muffle the noise. Minghao thrusts in and out, lazily licking at Seokmin’s clit, scissoring her fingers experimentally. 

 

“I can take more than two,” Seokmin mumbles out, face a bright red.

 

Minghao groans, squeezing her eyes shuts, trying to picture Seokmin fucking three fingers in and out of herself.

 

“Next time,” Minghao promises. 

 

Seokmin nods, her moans coming out higher and higher as Minghao continues to finger her, tongue occasionally dipping down to trace around where Seokmin’s stretched out around her knuckles. She can tell Seokmin’s close when her ankles lock against Minghao’s back, voice coming out in broken gasps.

 

There’s a novelty to being used by Seokmin. One that makes Minghao wish she could reach down and touch herself, but no, the focus here is Seokmin, Seokmin’s pleasure. When Seokmin finally comes, her thighs go tight around Minghao’s head, rocking up against Minghao’s mouth with a loud groan of Minghao’s name. Minghao keeps fucking her with her fingers until Seokmin whimpers, legs falling off Minghao’s shoulders.

 

The sight that greets Minghao when she moves up to kiss Seokmin has her fingers itching for her film camera, Seokmin eyes shiny and lashes wet with tears, lips red and kiss-swollen. Instead, she licks into Seokmin’s mouth, shoving a hand past the waistband of her underwear, rubbing her clit furiously. Minghao moans into Seokmin’s mouth when one of her hands drift past the waistband of Minghao’s panties. Minghao is so wet it’s embarrassing, but then Seokmin’s slipping two fingers into her, thicker than Minghao’s own, and Minghao whimpers into Seokmin’s mouth.

 

They’re not kissing anymore, just breathing into each other’s mouth, Minghao’s eyes screwed shut as Seokmin keeps fucking her, presses kisses against her jaw. It takes an embarrassingly short time for Minghao to come, Seokmin praising her through it. 

 

Minghao’s never thought about praise like that before but hearing it drip from Seokmin’s mouth, sincere and sexy both at once, Minghao wants more, wants to come again, wants to do it for Seokmin. Seokmin takes over, fucking her fingers into Minghao, thumb rubbing at her clit as she comes down from her orgasm. Minghao wraps a hand around Seokmin’s wrist when it starts feeling like too much. 

 

See, Minghao’s never thought much about what Seokmin’s like during sex. The little gossiping they do doesn’t prepare Minghao for the way Seokmin brings her fingers up to her mouth, licking the taste of Minghao off her fingers, smile wide and open. 

 

“You’re a menace,” Minghao laughs out. 

 

Seokmin’s smile turns suggestive, eyes twinkling. “There’s more of that.”

 

It sounds like a promise.

 

It’s only much later when they’re both showered and sitting at Minghao’s kitchen counter, Minghao serving up pancakes, does the gravity of the situation hit her. She slept with Seokmin, a friend of five years, promised Seokmin there would be more of this. 

 

Seokmin seems unaffected by it, smiling at Minghao and asking for more suggestions on how she should go about restyling herself. 

 

“How often do you think this will happen?” Minghao asks when she finally sits down opposite Seokmin. 

 

Seokmin blinks, setting her fork down. “Whenever we have time, Hao. I mean I’m not just going to just show up so we can fuck, y’know?” 

 

“You’re still my friend before you’re my fuck buddy,” Seokmin continues gently. 

 

“I don’t want things to change between us,” Minghao says. 

 

“I don’t think it will. We know each other too well for that.”

 

Seokmin smiles at her, reaches for her hand on the countertop and rubs soothing circles onto the back of it. The magic of Seokmin is that she could say anything, and Minghao would believe her. 

  
  


☽

 

To understand just how far back Minghao and Seokmin go, you'd have to go back, way back, when she'd thought that the idol industry could be her stepping stone. They knew each other before; before Minghao had her own studio and brand, before Seokmin had won a digital bonsang at the Golden Disc Awards. Before when Seokmin was a rookie and Minghao was still an assistant stylist, both of them filled with an insatiable hunger for more.

 

As an assistant stylist, Minghao’s time was never her own. Taking the job meant that she racked up steps in the ten thousands on her health app, begging on phone calls and trying not to snap at idols who got on her nerve. Nineteen-year-old Minghao wouldn’t trade it off for anything else though, loved it even when the days blurred together. Still loves it today, even when it’s awards season and she spends more time begging fashion houses to let her clients wear their clothes and arguing how much them endorsing their brand would help boost their own visibility.

 

It had been Minghao’s first time working with Seokmin. Pledis had a contract with Choi Kyoungwon, and as one of the assistants, Minghao’s first unsupervised venture into the idol world had been as Seokmin’s stylist. She’d carefully put together the outfits for Seokmin’s performances based on her debut MV, a funky pop song with fresh lyrics, one that matched Seokmin’s bright persona. Minghao’s first impression of Seokmin was loud, followed by too kind for the industry. At least that’s what Minghao used to think. Time has taught Minghao that _Dokyeom_ wears her heart on her sleeve and Seokmin buries hers down deep.

 

Despite having to share the green room with another girl group, Seokmin had been bright and energetic at 8 am. Minghao had been surprised, simply because it was rare one’s own personality filtered into their idol persona. But even 6 years ago, exhaustion evident in her dark circles, Lee Seokmin was dripping sincerity onto dingy floors of MBC.

 

There was the routine: hair, outfit, makeup, and Seokmin had sat through everything patiently, even as Minghao fiddled with her outfit. When Minghao was done Seokmin had grabbed her hands and uttered a “xiexie”, intonation all wrong but smile as warm as the hands around Minghao’s. Minghao had looked down at their hands and muttered you're welcome back before pulling away, letting the makeup artist takeover.

 

It was fun watching Seokmin interact with the crew members and backup dancers, entertaining her multiple questions about Minghao's work, and why Minghao was here instead of her other stylist. It was fun until Seokmin began practicing her choreography, and the hem of her dress had gotten caught on a forgotten nail, the sound of ripping fabric silencing the room. Seokmin's supposed to be on stage in 30 minutes, there was no time to go back and get a new outfit even if they _could_. There was a moment pin-drop silence before Minghao's brain caught up with her hands, rushing off to her bag where she kept her emergency sewing kit.

 

"Take it off," she'd asked and Seokmin, wide-eyed with horror, had nodded meekly, changing back into her daytime clothes.

 

Instinct takes over, years of Minghao making her own clothes boiling down to this moment, her fixing the tear in Seokmin's dress. When Seokmin puts it on again, it's shorter, but the tear is invisible, and that's what matters. Seokmin hugs Minghao just as an assistant producer calls her and Minghao's left stunned. In just four short hours, Lee Seokmin had thrown everything that Minghao knew about working with idols out of the window.

 

Minghao and Seokmin were coworkers for three years. Seokmin made friends easily, had the charm and the knack to recall the little things most overlooked but would retrospectively call important. It was the same charm that had her invited onto radio and variety shows. At some point, Seokmin had decided that Minghao would be roped into her life, ease her into it that by the time Minghao realized, it would be too late to say they weren't friends.

 

And within that time, she'd seen Seokmin in every situation: panicking over a comeback, crying from the stress, giddy with adrenaline, giddy with hiding her first boyfriend since she debuted. In the process, Seokmin would hold her hand more, compliment Minghao on her outfits and sometimes buy her coffee. In exchange, Minghao would coach her through Mandarin and indulge in Seokmin's jokes of releasing a Chinese single. Seokmin was 20, and burned with a light so radiant it melted down all of Minghao’s defenses. 

 

Seokmin was 23 and still burned radiantly. She had become something of a digital monster, compared to the likes of Heize and IU. Three things happened that summer, three years after her debut. One: Lee Seokmin achieved her first perfect all kill, her song about summertime romance charting throughout the rest of the year. Two: Minghao left Kyoungwon to pursue her dreams of starting her own fashion line, an endeavor that Seokmin supported despite the fact that it meant Minghao would be leaving her side. Three: Seokmin would break up with Kwon Soonyoung, an occurrence that Dispatch chronicled, which began the tradition Minghao fondly refers to Seokmin Has an Air Sign Venus.

 

Seokmin’s earnestness doesn’t end with Minghao leaving the idol industry, in fact, she becomes even more stubborn at keeping in touch. The year after Minghao starts her fashion line, Seokmin gets caught with her first girlfriend. In a series of events that surprised everyone, Seokmin came out to the public, and in a move that only Seokmin could pull off, the nation had no problems with the nation’s sweetheart liking women as much as she liked men. Minghao had stood by her throughout that period, knowing more than anyone else around Seokmin what it felt like to be ostracized for her sexuality.

 

That same year, Seokmin would stop calling her Myungho and start calling her Minghao. 

 

So Minghao and Seokmin go back. Way back. Unbeknownst to both of them, Seokmin's soft _xie xie_  had sown the seeds of a plant that would take root. Establish its presence, remind Minghao that Seokmin was one of hers. Not at the top or the bottom but there, present, always at the fringes of Minghao's vision.

 

☽

 

“What are we doing today?” Seokmin yawns, stretching out in her bed. 

 

Minghao’s eyes flicker to the long lines of her body, smiling sheepishly when Seokmin grins knowingly at her. It feels weird waking up in Seokmin’s bed instead of her own but Minghao’s gotten somewhat used to it. It seems to be happening more frequently after all.

 

“What are your thoughts on perfume?” Minghao asks seriously, intertwining her fingers with Seokmin’s. 

 

Seokmin laughs, bright like the sunshine that’s slowly filling the room. 

 

“Will you laugh at me if I told you I don’t know how to shop for it and I’ve just been using whatever fans give me?” 

 

“Nope,” Minghao chuckles, bringing Seokmin’s wrist to her mouth and pressing a gentle kiss to her pulse point. “I’ve seen your bathroom countertop. There’s so many miniature bottles there.” 

 

Seokmin hums, sitting up and surprisingly Minghao when she presses a kiss to her mouth, continues to flutter kisses along Minghao’s jaw.

 

“You’re really gonna make me talk about perfume, Hao?” Seokmin mumbles against the juncture of Minghao’s neck and shoulder. 

 

Minghao shivers, sighing. Seokmin’s insatiable, sometimes. She wouldn’t have it any other way. 

 

“We’re actually going to go out later,” Minghao says in a tone she thinks is supposed to sound stern but just comes out as a groan.

 

Seokmin smiles, a promise, and a challenge, nods, leans back against the pillows and pulls Minghao down with her. 

 

When they finally leave Seokmin’s apartment, it’s almost noon; showering together was not a good idea when Seokmin turned into the clingiest person alive post orgasm. The only way Minghao could get Seokmin to actually move was to promise that she’d stay over again tonight after Seokmin kept pouting about Minghao going back to work tomorrow. She’d probably have to use Seokmin’s clothes to work but that isn’t a problem.

 

They end up at Shinsegae Duty-Free, only because Minghao knows that they can’t go wrong with the number of boutiques in the store. Predictably, Seokmin becomes jumpy at the idea of going to a mall, but it’s a weekday.

 

“On the bright side, at least you’re not a male idol.” Minghao jokes.

 

Seokmin snorts, elbowing her. She has a huge pair of shades hiding her face and Minghao wonders where idols got that idea. To her, it makes them stand out even more. Shinsegae on a weekday is quiet, still bustling with business but on a level that’s more manageable than it usually is. It’s quiet enough that Seokmin feels comfortable taking her shades off, and Minghao counts it as a victory. Some of the salespeople recognize Seokmin but they don’t say anything, and that’s what matters. 

 

Minghao starts Seokmin off on the most generic perfume she can think of, Marc Jacobs _Daisy_. 

 

“What do you think of it?” Minghao presses. 

 

Seokmin makes a face and Minghao finds herself sighing in relief. She’s not sure what she would do if Seokmin actually liked the smell of it. 

 

“It’s too… eugh,” Seokmin says. 

 

The salesgirl hides a smile behind her hand, and Minghao smiles at her. They make their rounds around the various counters and Minghao comes to learn that Seokmin’s hard to please. It’s not a bad thing, just interesting to find that Seokmin isn’t showing any interests in the perfumes that Minghao thought she’d be interested in. Minghao gets Seokmin to smell a few bottles of men’s perfume too, just to see if Seokmin likes any of those better. She doesn’t. 

 

“Is there anything you like?” Minghao asks Seokmin when they’ve tried almost every counter. Seokmin shrugs. 

 

“What do you like?” Seokmin asks, smiling brightly.

 

Minghao blinks a few times, taken aback. “Perfume is something you choose for yourself, Seok. It’s something you want people to associate with you.”

 

Seokmin shrugs. “Anything that you associate with me is good for me.” 

 

There’s a small part of Minghao’s brain that wants to drag Seokmin to the Hermes counter, buy her a bottle of the same perfume that Minghao has. She shakes it off.

 

Minghao racks her brain, tries to think of something they might’ve missed. Le Labo, Chanel, Gucci, Dior, Hermes, Viktor & Rolf, Marc Jacobs, YSL — Minghao had practically gone through the whole list. There was a possibility that Seokmin might just be one of those people who favored custom perfumes and if that was the case, Minghao was going to track down every place in Seoul that offered such a service. That is until another counter catches her eye. 

 

“You wanna try just a few more?” Minghao asks. 

 

“Sure.”

 

Minghao dismissed Chloé after the first few floral perfumes Seokmin didn’t like, but their perfumes always had a way of settling on the skin in a way that made the florals less aggressive. Seokmin is dismissive of the first two, but Minghao spots the moment when she sniffs the third perfume and her whole face lights up. She picks the bottle up, spritzing it on her wrists; Minghao manages to stop her before she rubs them together, the salesgirl giving her a grateful smile.

 

“Rubbing your wrists together spoils the way the perfume settles on your skin. Spritz and let it dry.”

 

They wait until the perfume dries down, Seokmin grinning when she brings her wrists up to her nose to smell them.

 

“It smells great,” Seokmin says, positively thrumming with excitement.

 

The perfume is _Love Story_ , and Minghao won’t lie, she likes the way it smells herself. They walk around the store and try a few others, but Minghao doesn’t miss the way Seokmin keeps bringing her wrists up to her nose, or the way she naturally keeps gravitating to the counter. When Seokmin excuses herself to the bathroom, Minghao buys two bottles of the perfume, figuring Seokmin could leave one at Minghao’s place and keep the other for herself. Minghao knows it’s a little bit much, but she never claimed to do things half-heartedly, hiding the bag in her handbag. 

 

“Ready to leave?” She asks when Seokmin comes out. 

 

“We’re not getting anything?” Seokmin pouts, disappointed. 

 

Minghao feels a thrill run through her; so Seokmin _was_  excited to get something. She can only hope it’s the perfume she bought for her. 

 

Minghao shrugs. “Perfume isn’t exactly something you rush into buying.”

 

“Like makeup.”

 

“Yeah,” Minghao grins. “Like makeup.” 

 

When they get back to Seokmin’s apartment Minghao pokes around in the fridge, unearthing enough leftovers for an early dinner, reheating them as Seokmin watches on fondly. It’s only after they’re done, the dishes washed and dried, does Minghao pull out her gift for Seokmin. 

 

“I got you a present.”

 

Seokmin’s flustered, reaching out for the bag with clumsy fingers. When she unearths the boxes from the packaging, she looks at Minghao with an expression that’s both reproachful and happy. 

 

“You didn’t have to, but I’m glad you did. Why did you get me two boxes though?”

 

“I figured you could leave one at my place and have one for yourself, so you’ll always smell like it.” 

 

Seokmin looks at her with an expression that Minghao can’t decipher before making her way to Minghao. Minghao’s expecting the kiss but what she’s not expecting is the intensity of it, the way Seokmin’s kissing her like Minghao’s going to leave. It’s hot and desperate and before she knows it Minghao’s being hauled off the chair and walked backward to Seokmin’s bedroom, the two of them losing their clothes in the walk. There’s more kissing, Seokmin’s hands moving with a feverish passion even as Minghao straddles her, kisses her slow and sweet, Seokmin whining into her mouth. 

 

“Hao, can we try something?” Seokmin asks, clearly nervous.

 

Minghao ducks down to press a kiss to Seokmin’s mouth, grinding down on her thigh. 

 

“Yeah, anything.”

 

“I want you to sit on my face,” the way Seokmin says it, both shy and eager, has Minghao scrambling to sit up. 

 

She feels a little bit foolish, a bit desperate but Seokmin’s grinning up at her and Minghao thinks: _I_  can w _ant this_. And she does want it, so bad her thighs are trembling when she straddles Seokmin’s face, hands braced against the headboard. Seokmin wraps her arms around Minghao’s thighs, holding her in place, Minghao hissing when Seokmin playfully nips at her thigh. 

 

Minghao’s come to learn that whatever Seokmin lacks in experience, she makes up for in enthusiasm by the spades. She treats Minghao sitting on her face the same way, licking a broad stroke against Minghao’s pussy, Minghao’s hips rocking forward to chase the sensation. Underneath her Seokmin giggles, _giggles_ , before she drags the tip of her tongue in circles around Minghao’s clit.

 

The sensation has liquid fire pooling in Minghao’s limbs, feels like too much even though they’ve just started. Seokmin continues lapping at her clit, Minghao’s voice cracking on a moan when she switches from circling her clit to push the tip of her tongue past Minghao’s entrance, Minghao’s thighs nearly buckling. 

 

Seokmin pulls away, nips Minghao’s inner thigh again. 

 

“You can fuck my face if you want,” Seokmin mumbles, demure, eyes piercing. 

 

Minghao feels like a rubber band pulled too tight in too many directions as she rocks against Seokmin’s tongue, the feeling too much and too little all at once. Seokmin wriggles around, makes space for her hand as she penetrates Minghao with one finger, flattening the muscle of it against Minghao’s clit. 

 

Her head thuds against the wall, rocking forward onto Seokmin’s tongue and back onto her finger, groaning when Seokmin inserts a second finger, scissoring them carefully. Minghao comes embarrassingly fast, something she blames on how she’d already came once in the morning and once last night, Seokmin springing this on her when she’s still vaguely sensitive. It’s a lie though; the desire that Seokmin ignites in her is enough to unravel her fast every time. Underneath her, Seokmin is content to let Minghao use her mouth and her fingers to ride out her orgasm, so good, always so good for Minghao. 

 

Minghao’s thighs are still trembling when she moves to straddle Seokmin’s abdomen instead, burying her face in the crook of Seokmin’s neck and panting against the skin there. 

 

“Gimme a second,” Minghao pants out. “I’ll return the favor.”

 

Instead of saying anything, Seokmin brings Minghao’s fingers up to her mouth, Minghao’s eyes trained on the pink of her tongue swiping over the bands of her many rings, the gentle kiss she places to the tips of Minghao’s fingers. Curious, Minghao pushes her fingers past Seokmin’s lips, Seokmin moaning around them, sucking on them. When Seokmin’s had enough of it she presses a gentle kiss to Minghao’s palm, grabbing her by the wrist and moving Minghao’s hand to her throat, letting it rest there. 

 

“Please?” she asks sweetly.

 

Minghao can’t deny her, her throat dry -- they’ve been fucking for weeks and still Seokmin finds a way to steal her breath, even when Seokmin’s the one who wants to be choked. Minghao applies pressure on Seokmin’s throat, Seokmin’s eyes fluttering closed, whimpering. Minghao realizes she still has her rings on, pulls her hand away to take them off.

 

Seokmin’s eyes immediately fly open, grabbing Minghao’s wrist.

 

“Keep them on,” Seokmin pants out.

 

Oh. _Oh_. If Minghao had a dick, she’d probably be painfully hard right now. As it stands, she’s trying her best not to hump Seokmin’s thigh to her second orgasm. 

 

“Lemme take some off first, Seok.” 

 

Seokmin nods, Minghao taking the rings off her right hand, keeping the ones she has on her left on. She rearranges them, kneeling between Seokmin’s legs. The second time Minghao squeezes Seokmin’s neck, careful to avoid pressing down on her larynx, Seokmin whines, eyes already beginning to tear up. She counts to ten, lets go, leans down to kiss Seokmin. 

 

“More,” Seokmin demands.

 

Minghao’s never been good at denying Seokmin, squeezing her throat again, this time reaching down with her other hand to rub Seokmin’s clit. The effect: Seokmin whimpering, bucking up towards the stimulation, Minghao easing up on the pressure. It’s mesmerizing to see Seokmin moan under her, Minghao gradually adding fingers until she’s fucking Seokmin with three, thumb rubbing at her clit. Through it all, Seokmin’s hands are wrapped around the hand that Minghao has wrapped around her throat. There’s an intensity to the way Seokmin’s looking at her, one that Minghao’s unfamiliar with. 

 

It doesn’t take long for Seokmin to come, sensitive as she is, coming just as Minghao relaxes her grip on Seokmin’s throat, Seokmin riding her fingers. 

 

“You’re so amazing Seok,” Minghao says, pulling away to kiss Seokmin properly. “So, so amazing.” 

 

Before Minghao can wipe her fingers off, Seokmin’s popping them into her mouth, sucking the taste of herself off Minghao. 

 

“If I’d known getting you perfume would make you horny I would’ve done it sooner.” Minghao means it as a joke. Instead, it comes out sounding too honest. Seokmin laughs against her shoulder, nuzzling closer to Minghao.

 

“It’s because it’s Leo season.”

 

Minghao laughs at that, carding her fingers through Seokmin’s hair. 

 

“What do you even know about Leo season?”

 

“Whatever you tell me,” Seokmin answers, kissing Minghao’s shoulder. 

 

So it’s Leo season, the heat as pervasive as the need to be seen and appreciated. There’s the undercurrent of tension too, a lion stalking its prey. 

 

☽

 

The next time Minghao sees Seokmin is a week later, Seokmin smelling faintly like her perfume when she shows up at Minghao’s door with a bottle of wine and more carry out. At this point, Minghao is slightly concerned by the amount of take-out Seokmin buys them but raising it up always makes Seokmin clam up and pull away. Minghao’s learned to indulge her. 

 

It’s strange to wake up in a bed that doesn’t have Seokmin in it. Between the two of them, Minghao is the early riser. But also between the two of them, Seokmin is the one who has problems falling asleep, staying asleep, plagued by demons. Since they started this rotation of sleeping at each other’s houses, Minghao has lost count of the number of time Seokmin’s woken up crying. She always tries not to bother Minghao with it but Minghao always feels when Seokmin pulls away from her. She’s spent just as many nights consoling Seokmin as she does waking up before Seokmin.

 

The sounds of her piano drifting in through the open door is enough to assure Minghao that Seokmin hasn’t left. There are many good things about Seokmin sleeping over more often, one of them being Minghao’s piano actually serving a purpose. There are also other things about it, like the fact that this Seokmin, playing her piano and singing, is separate from Dokyeom. This -- Seokmin in Minghao’s sweatshirt, hair up and glasses on, playing Beyonce’s _Halo_  and singing along to it -- this is _hers._  That knowledge fills Minghao up, soothes the part of her that is greedy to keep Seokmin away from the world.

 

Minghao clapping when Seokmin finishes is what cues Seokmin to her presence, Seokmin ducking her head and blushing.

 

“Pancakes?” Minghao asks.

 

“With chocolate chips, please.” 

 

She nods, putters around the kitchen. Minghao believes in making pancakes from scratch and so she gathers the ingredients. On the piano, Seokmin has shifted from playing pop songs to classics; Minghao thinks it’s Bach but she’s not sure. It’s as she’s mixing the wet ingredients into the dry that the piano stops, and there are footsteps across the floor.

 

Minghao barely has time to turn around before she finds Seokmin attaching herself to Minghao’s back, trying to bury her face in Minghao’s neck. Minghao giggles, Seokmin’s nose dragging across her neck ticklish, feels more than sees Seokmin smile as well. 

 

“What’s this for?” Minghao asks.

 

Seokmin meets her eyes, her brows furrowed, lips parted. The kitchen is suddenly quiet except for their breathing, and the noises of the street drifting up. Seokmin’s gaze flickers between Minghao’s eyes and Minghao’s mouth, occasionally lingers at all the hickeys she gave her that’s exposed by Minghao’s camisole. The question lingers in the air.

 

“Just felt like it,” Seokmin shrugs, looking away from Minghao. It dispels the heaviness.

 

Minghao feels like she can breathe again, even if Seokmin’s weight against her back is overwhelming.

 

It’s that exact moment that Minghao realizes what she feels for Seokmin isn’t just _feelings_. This is more than the casual adoration reserved for friends, more than the fluttering heartbeat of puppy love in her chest. 

 

This is blank, the emotion that consumes Minghao. This is blank, the emotion that turns Minghao into a dragon, curling around the object of her affections with a protective fierceness. This is blank, Minghao’s unfaltering devotion.

 

This is love. 

 

And it’s that realization that pushes Minghao over the edge, from hovering to falling. It’s hard not to fall when the ground is made of this: Seokmin’s singing filling her apartment, Seokmin’s notebooks on her piano, Seokmin’s marks on her body. 

 

This is love, and the realization is just as much scary as it is liberating. 

 

Minghao’s not sure what her expression is like when she finally sets a stack of pancakes on the countertop but whatever it is has Seokmin grinning at her, their feet tangled together under the table. Minghao does know she wants this. 

 

☽

 

Minghao hasn’t seen Seokmin properly in a week, and that induces a bout of snappishness so severe even Mingyu gives her a wide breadth at work. Seokmin’s busy with variety schedules and whatever free time she _does_  have is spent FaceTiming Minghao. Minghao supposes Jihoon is also the one keeping Seokmin away but has no way to confirm it. Seokmin looks good in her schedules though, wearing more of the outfits Minghao had picked out for her. Even netizens are beginning to comment on it, saying that Lee Seokmin looks better and happier now that she’s with a new company.

 

She ends up at a dessert cafe two days later, three different slices of cakes and a large cup of bubble tea in front of her, waiting for her best friend. 

  
“Did you know a rhinoplasty surgeon declared my nose is in trend?” Junhui says excitedly, settling into a chair across Minghao and flipping through a tabloid magazine.

 

Wen Junhui is known for several things within the high fashion industry. Her nose is one of those things, not counting her elegant walk and ideal proportions. If tabloids were to be believed, more people want Wen Junhui’s nose than they do Bella Hadid’s nose. To Minghao however, Jun is just her best friend, a friendship that grew from circumstance rather than need, but a strong one nonetheless. Jun is half the reason for M&M's growing recognition; if Jun hadn’t insisted on wearing one of Minghao’s designs to Cannes, she would probably still be slaving to be invited to fashion week.

 

In a weird turn of events, it’s the first time Minghao's called Jun out to ask for advice. It's usually the other way around; Minghao has a strange way of becoming the big sister in any relationship, even if Jun's a year older than her.

 

"So," Jun chirps, setting the magazine down and taking a sip of bubble tea. "Why did my beloved didi call me here?"

 

Minghao knows Jun knows the promise of bubble tea and desserts is a bribe of sorts, so she might as well cut to it.

 

"I'm sleeping with someone," Minghao begins.

 

Junhui giggles, clapping her hands and leaning forward. "Oh, this is going to be good," she says, ignoring the dry look Minghao gives her.

 

"I'm sleeping with someone and I think I have feelings now," Minghao says, running the words together and ducking her head.

 

Junhui is smiling, humming something that sounds suspiciously like Drake's _In My Feelings_. Minghao groans.

 

"That's it?" Jun asks when Minghao doesn't say anything else. "You wouldn't have called me here if it was just about feelings, Hao." Junhui continues gently.

 

Minghao swallows. For all of Junhui's childish antiques and Minghao's exasperation to be seen as an adult, no one can see through her the way Junhui does. Not even Seokmin, no. Seokmin's gaze makes Minghao want to lay her heart bare, but she's not at the point where she can read Minghao like that, not yet.

 

"Seokminnie and I are sleeping with each other," Minghao says weakly.

 

"About time," Jun says casually; like she's been expecting Minghao to come forth with this confession for years.

 

"What do you mean about time? We haven't even been doing this for that long," Minghao protests.

 

She almost sounds petulant, Junhui smiling indulgently.

 

"You've been dancing around her for years, didi." Junhui's tone is gentle but firm. It makes Minghao avoid her searching gaze.

 

"I haven't," Minghao's determined to be stubborn.

 

Junhui sighs like she was prepared for this too.

 

"Remember when Seokmin broke up with her first girlfriend? Park Jihyo? You showed up at our house that night, got so drunk you passed out. Won and I were worried about you the whole night."

 

Minghao remembers that night, feels her throat close up in shame.

 

"The next day you pretended like everything was fine, even if you were nursing the biggest hangover. You left before lunch and when we asked you why all you said was that Seokmin needed you." Junhui continues.

 

"What I'm saying, Hao, is that you've been doing that for years. Seokmin calls and you answer. Every time she gets into a relationship you throw yourself into work, and we only see you whenever she's single."

 

"I don't do that."

 

"You do," Junhui continues gently. "You don't see the way Seokmin looks at you, and she doesn't either. She just sees you happy and she's happy. But the rest of us, me, Wonwoo, Hansol, hell even Soonyoung, we see the way you look at each other."

 

"What do I do?" Minghao mumbles.

 

Jun shrugs, picking up her drink. "Talk to her. Tell her how you feel. I'm sure she feels the same."

 

Minghao scoffs bitterly.

 

"This is Seokmin we're talking about, _jie_. You know the moment feelings come into the picture she's going to run."

 

"Ah, Hao, there you go again, deciding against even before you do anything about it."

 

"You know what she's like when she dates someone."

 

Junhui sighs, brows furrowing. "因噎废食."

 

Minghao laughs. "I'm usually the one offering proverbs."

 

"Then let me do it this time," Junhui says simply. "I'm just saying she's dated people. She hasn't dated _you_."

 

Minghao fidgets. Junhui has a point. Not to be vain, but she could definitely think of all the ways she was better than Soonyoung.

 

"How's Wonwoo unnie?" Minghao asks. The gleam in Junhui's eyes tells Minghao that she knows Minghao is deflecting.

 

Junhui goes along with it, expression turning saccharine sweet.

 

"She just got a new contract for some Netflix miniseries, playing a female detective."

 

"So it's your turn being the trophy wife," Minghao comments, smiling when Junhui laughs, high and trilling.

 

"Yeah. Fashion week isn't that far away though, which means we won't be seeing each other for a while."

 

Minghao groans and Junhui's expression turns sympathetic. "How is _that_  going? The offer still stands, you know, I'll drop everything to walk in your show."

 

"You don't have to do that, _jie_. It's just, not going well right now."

 

Junhui waves a hand in the air. "Take a break. Go do things for NCT instead of letting Mingyu or your assistants at them. You just need inspiration."

 

"What I need is a large gathering of people in their 20's wearing clothes that weren't picked out for them," Minghao groans out.

 

"NCT," Junhui says sagely. Minghao sighs, deferring to Junhui.

 

"I'll go see them for a few days."

 

Junhui nods, taking another large sip of bubble tea. "I'm a genius."

 

Minghao snorts, meeting her eyes. "Sure."

 

Junhui sticks her tongue out and Minghao giggles.

 

Minghao likes to think she's good at playing the role of older sibling, bossing Junhui around, but at the core of it, Junhui’s always been watching over her. Even when Minghao was younger and much more hard-headed and hot-tempered, it was Junhui's calming presence that would pull her away from going over the edge. Junhui's good at reading Minghao and determining what she needs, and Minghao will always be grateful for that.

 

☽

 

Actually working with NCT is a lot more overwhelming than it should be. Of course it is, there's 18 of them, the oldest being 24 and the youngest being 16. It's a mess trying to coordinate their tastes, accommodating for Taeil's taste in dressing like someone's grandfather and Jisung being a teenager. Mark Lee also has a taste that aligns with a geriatric, and the only thing that saves Jung Jaehyun from looking like an American frat boy are Mingyu and Minghao.

 

Minghao likes working with Johnny, Dongyoung, Donghyuck, Renjun, Jeno and Jaemin. Johnny and Dongyoung because they actually understand their image and therefore minimize her work and Donghyuck is reasonable enough in his own personal tastes that it fits with the image SM is trying to curate for him. Renjun, Jeno, and Jaemin are Minghao's personal saviors, sweet and always giving their feedback on the clothes she throws at them, helping her adjust and pick out things they like _and_  fit their image. And maybe if she likes doting on them, she keeps it to herself. 

 

It's a surprise when she comes home to the sound of her piano being played, unlocking the door only to be greeted by Seokmin at the piano, the smell of food in the air.

 

"I didn't know you were coming over," Minghao calls from her room, setting her things in their respective places.

 

The sound of the piano stops, followed by the heavy sound of the piano stool moving across tile. Minghao wriggles out of her bra, tossing it into the laundry hamper, still wearing the rest of her clothes.

 

"I texted you," Seokmin says simply, already seated at the counter. She's frowning and Minghao wants nothing more than to smooth it away. "I can leave if you need space though, I just figured it's been a while since I saw you."

 

It has been a while. Minghao fishes her phone out of her pocket; Seokmin _had_  texted her.

 

"No, stay," Minghao continues, plastering herself to Seokmin's back, wrapping her arms around Seokmin's waist. She drops a kiss into Seokmin's hair, smiling when Seokmin hums, Seokmin's fingers encircled around Minghao's wrist.

 

Sometimes Minghao can't help but thank her lucky stars that Seokmin's tactile, eats up any physical affection that she's given, just as willing to give back. Like this, she can wrap herself around Seokmin, play off feelings for friendship. Junhui's words ring in her ears.

 

"What's for dinner?" Minghao asks.

 

"Well, I was feeling Thai and swung by the place you like. I got some stuff, and there's mango sticky rice in the microwave."

 

The words are on the tip of her tongue, begging to fall out. _I love you_ , she wants to say. _I l_ _ove you so much,_  she wants to repeat the words, press them into Seokmin's skin.

 

Minghao doesn't. She takes a seat across Seokmin, smiling and laughing as Seokmin recounts her day, talks about the baby she entertained at the cafe across the street from the company. Seokmin prods her for details about her day too, making sympathetic noises when Minghao starts talking about NCT. Minghao realizes with a painful jolt that she wants this every day, wants to come home to Seokmin, wants her apartment to be filled with all the noise Seokmin brings in her wake.

 

When Minghao bought the huge chunk of rose quartz at the beginning of summer, she didn't think this was what it would bring into her life. When she'd bought it, she was hoping for something simple, something to bring her out of the slump she was in. It's given her more than that; Seokmin's simple, brings her out of her slump, but also brings with it a whole different level of emotion. Brings with it something bright and all-consuming.

 

There are the laws of science, and then there are the laws of Lee Seokmin. Minghao would go so far as to argue that nothing is quite as predictable as Lee Seokmin, that her many observations of Seokmin’s character allow her to testify to just how predictable Seokmin is. It is this that keeps her from confessing; Seokmin is fine as long as you don't corner her with emotion. She'll even reciprocate in her own way, but the minute someone confesses, it only takes three months before things go down the drain.

 

Minghao doesn't want things to go down the drain in three months. Minghao wants this, albeit probably at one a.m. because Seokmin will be back to her own schedules. She wants to watch Seokmin's performances on music shows and listen to her on the radio during Minghao's drives back home. She wants to laugh at green curry spread on Seokmin's chin, press her gently into the sofa and kiss her sweet.

 

She wants her pinky wrapped around Seokmin's, sticky with mango, giggling uncontrollably. So she bites down on it, her feelings, the racing heartbeat in her chest the only proof that Minghao wants more. In her chest, the only words that echo, in time with the _lub-dub, lub-dub_  of her heart, are _love-you, love-you_.

 

They've fallen into a routine, Minghao realizes later, as she washes dishes, Seokmin singing as she dries them off. If she looks around her apartment, she'll find proof of it. It's there, just another way that she's bared her heart to Seokmin. As she removes her makeup, she notes that the spare toothbrush is no longer the spare, it's become _Seokmin’s_. Amongst Minghao's vanilla scented body wash is Seokmin's coconut scented one. Right next to Minghao's bottle of L'Ambre des Merveilles is Seokmin's bottle of Love Story, in the same dish that holds Minghao's many rings is Seokmin's charm bracelet.

 

As they prepare for bed together, Minghao can't help but think only Seokmin is possible of doing something like this. Weaving herself into someone's life, falling in love without _being_  in love.

 

Minghao can't even say no to Seokmin demanding to be cuddled when she crawls into bed after her shower. Minghao relents, opening her arms and smiling when Seokmin's back lines up with her front. It's only later, much later when Seokmin's breaths have evened out and Minghao's still wide awake does she whisper the words against Seokmin's neck.

 

_Love-you, love-you, love-you_. 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> first of all, thank you to you, reader, for reading this. i can only hope you enjoyed it. secondly, to the mods: for holding my hand and guiding me through everything. to dirt nation, for the various people who held my hand and whom i fed tiny morsels of dirt to. peace out~


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